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Moog – A dancing tribe
The artificial light shines in the alley, a side street bordered by a gate on one side and a dark spot on the other.
Yellow street lamps, a wide staircase, the House of Puppets museum, signs of graffiti partially removed, a music stand, a barrel, some cars set aside at the edge of the street, a private car park.
It is a hidden alley - a cross street of a road that leads to the pedestrian center – already in the center but deprived of the shopping stroll; many shops have been left by shopkeepers here and they are now asking for a new life.
You cross the first iron gate and in some nights you don't see anything but people, dozens, hundreds of people standing, talking, sitting on the steps, smoking, laughing, looking around and looking for familiar faces, no matter if it's hot or cold.
You enter crossing a second gate, the squeaky porch swing is on the right. There are different tables picked up in some flea market arranged randomly in the yard.
An old town house, that once was an association club and it's a pub now; Lucio, Alessandro and Francesco, years ago created this charming underground place in the city center.
The yellow lights of the road paved with cobblestones contrast with the dim lighting of the pub: two floors, several rooms.
Rooms that are almost always empty, except on rainy days or cold winter evenings, since the people of Moog, surround it, envelop it, join in an unconscious dance where each dancer moves to the right and left, laughs, has fun, communicates and starts dancing again.
The repetitive creaking of the porch swing, candles on the tables, nitty-gritty light bulbs that illuminate the courtyard, the wide and genuine smile of Lucio, familiar faces of dozens, hundreds of people of Ravenna, a beer, a Palm, a cocktail, Erasmus students, background music, pages of a book in the toilet, pictures of the review Internazionale, the smile of a girl at the counter, a guitar, music and words, a piano, someone is shooting a video in the next room, it rains but at Moog there's always somebody, at Moog there is always a friend.
I exit from the iron gate, I walk the path of artificial and surreal light and I continue my journey back through the second gate and I finally end up in the street.
Cars parked on both sides encumber the passage and hide the abandoned shop windows: where will all these people be?
Ravenna hides its beauty behind not one but two gates, like a suspended place, hidden, concealed in your thoughts, where many people find themselves in the same steps and if you stop and look at them it almost seems they dance.
